But, although there was nobody to be found, except the syndic in the syndic’s house, and not a soul at the house inhabited by the Jesuit, there was one more person included in the warrant, which was the widow Vandersloosh; for Lord Albemarle, although convinced in his own mind of her innocence, could not take upon himself to interfere with the decisions of the council; so, about one o’clock, there was a loud knocking at the widow’s door, which was repeated again and again before it awoke the widow, who was fatigued with her long and hot journey to the Hague.  As for Babette, she made a rule never to wake at anything, but the magical No. 6, sounded by the church clock, or by her mistress’s voice.

“Babette,” cried the widow Vandersloosh, “Babette.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There’s a knock at the door, Babette.”

“Only some drunken sailors, ma’am—­they go away when they find they cannot get in.”

Here the peals were redoubled.

“Babette, get up, Babette—­and threaten them with the watch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Babette, with a terrible yawn.

Knocking and thumping with strokes louder than before.

“Babette, Babette!”

“I must put something on, ma’am,” replied Babette, rather crossly.

“Speak to them out of the window, Babette.”

Here poor Babette came down to the first floor, and opening the window at the landing-place on the stairs, put her head out and cried,

“If you don’t go away, you drunken fellows, my mistress will send for the watch.”

“If you don’t come down and open the door, we shall break it open,” replied the officer sent to the duty.

“Tell them it’s no inn, Babette, we won’t let people in after hours,” cried the widow, turning in her bed and anxious to resume her sound sleep.

Babette gave the message and shut down the window.

“Break open the door,” cried the officer to his attendants.  In a minute or two the door was burst open, and the party ascended the staircase.

“Mercy on me!  Babette, if they arn’t come in,” cried the widow, who jumped out of her bed, and nearly shutting her door, which had been left open for ventilation, she peeped out to see who were the bold intruders; she perceived a man in black with a white staff.

“What do you want?” screamed the widow, terrified.

“We want Mistress Vandersloosh.  Are you that person?” said the officer.

“To be be sure I am.  But what do you want here?”

“I must request you to dress and come along with me directly to the Stadt House,” replied the officer, very civilly.

“Gott in himmel! what’s the matter?”

“It’s on a charge of treasonable practices, madam.”

“Oh, ho!  I see:  Mr Vanslyperken.  Very well, good sir; I’ll put on my clothes directly.  I’ll get up any hour in the night, with pleasure, to bring that villain—.  Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, we shall see.  Babette, take the gentleman down in the parlour, and give them some bottled beer.  You’ll find it very good, sirs; it’s of my own brewing.  And Babette, you must come up and help me.”